


to keep a secret

by sunflower_8, Xx_M0THM4N_xX



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc
Genre: Blood and Gore, Character Death, Cognitive Dissonance, Complicated Relationships, Dubious Morality, F/F, Mental Instability, Murder, Possibly Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:34:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25136980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunflower_8/pseuds/sunflower_8, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xx_M0THM4N_xX/pseuds/Xx_M0THM4N_xX
Summary: It’s a face worth killing for, poor Naegi has proven that. Silently, she thanks him for his contribution. But Ludenberg wasn’t blind to how the boy looked at Kirigiri, how he blushed when she called him Makoto or held his soft, uncalloused hands in her gloved ones. He was nothing more than a pawn to her, true, but he was a pawn getting dangerously close to Ludenberg’s queen.It truly is a pity that it came to this.(or, ludenberg and kirigiri hide a body.)
Relationships: Kirigiri Kyoko/Celestia Ludenberg, Kirigiri Kyoko/Naegi Makoto (Past)
Comments: 23
Kudos: 118





	to keep a secret

Kirigiri is not unfamiliar to murder.

A litany of detective cases, abject neutrality while viewing files, the ability to condemn and vindicate resting indirectly in her palms-- it’s a scene she is used to. The art of murder is a craft she can distantly and meticulously study; she can settle into the mind of a detective with the ease of someone who is only ever that. However, every case has nuance, every case has _complications_ , and this leads her here.

The death of Naegi Makoto, a death messily done, a death where she knows the culprit. The culprit, who executed this masterfully. The culprit, who has, despite this, left the body in plain sight. 

The culprit, who is standing beside her, and the evidence is so transparently clear that she isn’t quite sure what to do with herself.

“Ludenberg,” she states quietly. It’s not a question; she lacks the lilt for it. It’s simply an acknowledgement.

The gambler simply smiles, letting that serve as a response, as she bends down to close the eyes of the body that once was Naegi Makoto. “So we meet again, Kirigiri. Has it been nearly a year now? My, my.” She clicks her tongue a little, wiping a little blood off her heeled boots. “How time flies.” Her eyes level with Kirigiri’s once more. “We simply _must_ catch up over tea sometime, hmmm?”

She does not answer to that-- at least, not initially-- because conversation with Ludenberg is not productive if done with reckless abandon. Instead, she focuses her energy onto the priority: Naegi’s corpse. 

The murder was not committed long ago, she can discern. Kneeling down beside him (and consciously ignoring the thick stench of blood as well as Ludenberg’s equally tainted presence) leads to more conclusions being drawn. The fatal wound resulted in a slash across his torso, and she almost bitterly respects that the other chose the movement more difficult to trace, rather than the stabbing motions so commonly done. 

There is a slight oxymoron in the conduction of this murder, as it was clearly thought out, and yet so rash. It was done with careful consideration, yet the plans towards this were only concocted because of some emotion. There was a drive for it, most certainly… but this is not her profession. She sets this thought aside with cool professionalism and addresses Ludenberg once again, “I assume you want me to hide the body.”

“You always were a bright one.” Ludenberg rewards her with a genuine smile, curled up at the edges like some sinister cat. “I presume you’ll assist me?” She’s not quite sure what she’ll do if Kirigiri refuses, but she keeps that smile high on her cheeks. A perfect bluff, one that whispers _you are not my only plan, dear Kirigiri, just my favorite one._

Which is at least half true. 

Kirigiri lets the pause linger longer, using the silence to observe the corpse a little closer, fixating on what amateurs typically neglect. The positioning of his arm, protective and yet ineffective in its very goal; his expression, shocked with an understated glimpse of acceptance; his clothes, familiar and hardly wrinkled despite the deep staining. Were someone to look upon this scene, it would carry the appeal of Lovecraftian horror, a vague implication of tragedy sheathing beauty.

Naegi was beautiful, once. But he is dead. 

(Kirigiri has always held more fascination with killers.)

Ludenberg’s smile falters, falls a little.

  
  
She isn’t saying anything. She just keeps staring at the body, with that beautifully unreadable face. 

It’s a face worth killing for, poor Naegi has proven that. Silently, she thanks him for his contribution. But Ludenberg wasn’t blind to how the boy looked at Kirigiri, how he blushed when she called him Makoto or held his soft, uncalloused hands in her gloved ones. He was nothing more than a pawn to her, true, but he was a pawn getting dangerously close to Ludenberg’s queen.

  
  
It truly is a pity that it came to this.

Kirigiri’s fingertips brush his cheek, briefly, before they find their way to her hair, tucking lavender strands behind a hypervigilant ear. She knows that Ludenberg is awaiting an answer. She knows that Ludenberg intends to deceive her until she can hear a lie that will appeal to her sickening poison. Kirigiri’s words are not sacchariferous, and she does not intend to coat them now. 

When she does speak, it is blunt. It is quiet. It is cool. It is an admission, regardless. “I am not doing this for you.”

“Pity.” Ludenberg is calmer now, she has an answer to rely on, and it’s an answer she can change. “I did so hope that Naegi would be the only one.” She lets the phrase linger for a minute in the hot July night, hoping that Kirigiri doesn’t call her bluff. Her mascara is ever-so-slightly smeared from the tears she shed over Naegi’s rapidly cooling corpse. 

It’s a fool’s errand to hope that Kirigiri won’t notice that, won’t notice how her hand shakes ever so slightly as she brings it to her carefully painted lips, how her accent has dulled ever so slightly. How Taeko Yasuhiro is beginning to show at the edges.

It’s… strange, seeing Ludenberg lose composure. These events-- rather, the murder itself-- can be drawn in parallel tracks to the gambler’s behavior overall. That, at least, isn’t shocking to her. It’s personal in a visceral sense, both by choice of victim and identity of culprit, but it isn’t particularly surprising. 

However, Ludenberg’s behavior now most certainly _is._

The threat of killing another is certainly a bluff, but it’s also believable in a sense that would almost be terrifying, if Kirigiri was not who she was. Her voice does not falter in its trained neutrality, and she replies smoothly, “That won’t be necessary.” She spares one more glance at Naegi, committing his appearance to memory, before she adds, “I’ll do what you’ve asked. But it isn’t for you.”

(In retrospect, Kirigiri isn’t certain who it is for. Who it has _always_ been for.)

_Thank god._

Ludenberg keeps her face neutral, letting a simple half-smile slip through her elegant facade as she reaches down to take Kirigiri’s hand in hers. “Good girl. Now, let’s get to it, hmm? Someone will be noticing his absence soon.” In hindsight, it was so stupid of her to do this, kill someone this powerful (not as powerful as her, or Kirigiri, or even proud Togami, but powerful in a different way,) but what’s done is done, and Ludenberg isn’t one to dwell on the past.

The fact that it ‘isn’t for her,’ as Kirigiri puts it, is hardly a bother. She has Kirigiri doing what she wants, and that’s enough for her.

Or, at least, that’s what she tells herself.

Kirigiri lets out a sigh. It’s soft, quiet, barely able to be heard, but it exists, and that’s enough for her to feel slight disappointment in herself. She adjusts her gloves and stands, avoiding Ludenberg’s gaze. “Nobody will find him,” she states with a confidence that is almost feigned, and yet so rooted in her instinct. 

“You don’t need to reassure me, dear.” Ludenberg examines her perfectly polished nails, digging out a bit of blood from underneath her pinky. “I have full confidence in your abilities.” She begins walking toward Kirigiri’s estate, her heels sinking into the soft ground. “Bring it with you, will you? I don’t want to dirty my hands again.”

She sighs again before nodding, lifting Naegi in her arms. He’s heavier, postmortem, but it’s nothing she isn’t capable of handling. She adjusts herself, slightly, before following Ludenberg to her house, making a note to return afterwards and clean the patch of grass where Naegi laid.

Ludenberg doesn’t need to state her plans for Kirigiri to understand her intent. She has always been able to keep up with her, to match her in intellect. It makes their interactions easier, as a whole. In the same breath, it makes them almost _frustrating_. 

“Nobody is home,” she comments. Her grandfather wouldn’t be home for a while.

Hmm.

  
  
That’s one thing that Ludenberg has always admired about Kirigiri, her stoic honesty (although it reaches a point where it’s infuriating, sometimes), but her neutrality and ability to be so calm, even in circumstances such as these (her best friend, dead in her arms, a girl she hates leading her to her own house, like she has any authority, like she’s worthy to be near Kirigiri, presumptuous little-)

The door appears to be unlocked. Cautiously, Ludenberg swings it open, holding it open for Kirigiri. “After you, my dear.” 

Kirigiri doesn’t thank her, stepping inside her house. The hardwood underneath her feet carries a different echo, now, but maybe it’s a matter of circumstance. She doesn’t have to walk very far to reach her living room, just off to the side of the foyer, and there is an antique fireplace resting just across from a few worn armchairs. 

She sets Naegi’s body down on a couch, noting that she has to clean that surface as well, before she hesitantly approaches the fireplace. It’s been rarely used by her family, only there for frigid winter nights where her grandfather is alone, but she knows that it is still functional, now. There should be nothing holding her back from lighting it, stoking it, and placing the corpse in the flames…

… and yet.

Quietly, she says, “Light it.”

Fire has always been so interesting to Ludenberg.

She’s always loved its passion, the way it’s untamable. Unpredictable.

  
  
She especially likes how it affects poor, dear, Kirigiri. How she seems to cringe ever so slightly around candles or fireworks or even stoves. Oh, she tries to hide it, bluffing her way through celebrations and cooking parties and blackouts and such, but Ludenberg can see right through her.

  
  
It’s so fun to see her so very frightened.

So of course she takes a match, delicately striking it against the box before gently dropping it into the open hearth and watching the blaze rise up.

  
  
It’s a beautiful funeral of sorts for Naegi.

Kirigiri has to keep her eyes away from the fire, even when the flicker of flames reflects in Ludenberg’s irises, colored a deep crimson. Instead, she fixates on the scent (matted blood, death-- she’ll have to light some candles soon) or what she hears (Ludenberg shuffling around, the ticking of a grandfather clock, the crackle she is desperately trying to elude). Still, even then, her thoughts bring her back to the place they have always been, ever since she saw the mantle and the coals.

She stands up, eventually, Naegi still in her arms. She kneels in front of the fireplace, dust brushing the fabric of her knee-high socks, and with slight abandon, she places the corpse into the fire, watching with muted melancholy as she sees Naegi for the last time, turning to ash.

God, the stench is disgusting. Ludenberg’s perfume can’t even mask that- burning flesh, meaty and metallic and heavy. “Kirigiri, darling, couldn’t you have done something less…” Her nose wrinkles delicately. “Aromatic?” She watches as the flesh falls off his bones, crumbling to ash in the pit of the fire.

Disgusting in life, disgusting in death, hmmm?

“Fire is thorough,” Kirigiri states. “I’ll… light some candles.”

She stands, moves to a bookshelf filled with thick-bound novels and occasional letters and looks towards the top. There lies a small candle, the scent of lavender. It burns her nose, sometimes, with how strong it can be, but it is ideal for this situation. 

(If lighting the candle makes her flinch, the sight of a small flame, pressing against her gloved fingertips… she doesn’t say a thing.

She does linger there for a moment longer, though, before she has to face Naegi again.)

Lavender is a good scent. It is, of course, massively preferable to the smell of Naegi decomposing, but Ludenberg has always been rather fond of it.

  
  
(It reminds her of Kirigiri, cool and herbal and, of course, purple, but she tells herself she likes it simply because of its French roots.)

The air feels tense, now, both with the heady perfume and the fact that the deed has been done. Ludenberg is safe. No one needs to find out, now. Except, of course…  
  


“That’s it, hmm?” She crosses the room, heels clicking against the hardwood floor. “And not a word to anyone, mind you.” She brings herself close to Kirigiri, a crooked smile hanging from her cheekbones. “It’ll be our little secret.”

  
  
She leans in further.

Up close, Ludenberg’s eyes look nothing like fire, despite the scarlet hue. In a sense, this is terrifying, though Kirigiri is not meant to be terrified. In another sense, it is vaguely comforting, the fact that the irises are not what draws her into hell, resting in a fireplace, crackling. 

She exhales, not quite a _sigh_ , but a sound akin to it. “Our little secret,” she repeats quietly. “Fine. I agree to this term, Taeko.”

Ludenberg’s eyes widen, almost imperceptibly, at the name, but she simply laughs, and runs her hand over Kirigiri’s cheek. “That’s a good girl.” She spares a passing glance at Naegi. “Truly a shame. I’m sorry, I suppose.”

  
  
She’s not sorry at all, really. It’s just another lie that will define the persona she has fabricated.

Celestia Ludenberg brushes her lips against Kirigiri Kyoko’s, and means every second of it. 

Kirigiri flutters her eyelashes shut, allows herself a hateful, bitter, _honest_ indulgence in Ludenberg’s lips, her back against the bookshelf, the stench of death harshly masked in lavender and fire. It’s a sickening scene, a twisted crime, and Kirigiri feels a piece of her sink with how she has betrayed every code of morals and laws she has been taught for forever. Somewhere in there, cited in a line, is a caution not to kiss killers, not to fall for them, to run away with laced-up boots and never return.

In the end, however, her morals have already shrivelled against the aching, scorching coals.

A litany of _I hate you, I hate you_ s almost drown out the feeling of the kiss, but even loader, almost a screaming plea… she falls in love with the adrenaline in unfamiliar irises, bitter scandal, and the denial of who she has always been. 

In simpler terms, she falls in love with Celestia Ludenberg for just a second of time, no matter how shallow, swearing to herself (lying to herself) that it won’t last for the rest of her traitorous life.

**Author's Note:**

> hi hi, sunflower here! me and moth did a nifty lil collab (which is very sexy of us) and this was SO fun to write. check out moth's account, they are super talented, they did all the celeste dialogue/prose, they're also really lovely as a person! celesgiri really do be winning tho... anyway i don't know what else to say but!! this was super super fun! have a nice day, lovelies :-)


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